


missing Thieves Among Us POVs go here

by the_maybe



Series: Thieves [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_maybe/pseuds/the_maybe
Summary: exactly what it says on the tin, sometimes i write a pov for my jongerry fic and don't want to get rid of it, so it's going here
Relationships: Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Thieves [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854781
Kudos: 13





	missing Thieves Among Us POVs go here

**Author's Note:**

> just to tide you over until the next proper chapter, which will hopefully be next week, but we'll see
> 
> this will not make sense on it's own, but probably isn't 100% necessary to enjoy the other one.

Jon hunches in on himself. Is he cold? Or has Gerry inadvertently made him uncomfortable again? 

“Gerard! It’s good to see you!” James says with an unpleasant warmth, “And who’s your friend?”

“Oh- uh, Jonathan Sims,” Jon replies immediately.

Gerry rolls his eyes and hopes Jon has enough sense in him to immediately regret every single action he’s taken that led him to this point, culminating in him _giving his name to the dangerous man he’d followed here!_ Luckily, James’ hands were in his pockets, so Jon manages not to offer his own to shake.

“Jon, nice to meet you, are you a friend of Em’s too?” he says, still grinning.

“No, he’s with me,” Gerry interrupts, before Jon can say anything else.

“Oh, good,” Maybe that was the wrong choice; James takes his hands out of his pockets and looks as though he is about to offer a handshake. Gerry realises too late he is wearing gloves, and holding a small glass jar. James takes one of Jon’s hands in his and closes it around the jar, forcing it up to his eye level, an inch from his face.

Jon can do nothing but look at it.

James drops his hand and sprints in the opposite direction.

Gerry lets out a string of curses, frantically looking between the two men, feeling a chilling sense of déjà vu.

“Jon?” Jon doesn’t reply. “Ah, _shit_ , okay, here take this,” Gerry thrusts the umbrella at him, and he takes it absently. “Stay here, Jon, don’t move, I’m coming back-” and with that, he sprints after James as fast as he could.

He has a good head start, but Gerry is quicker. The streets are quieter than they would have been because of the rain, and Gerry thanks his stars that he doesn’t have to weave through crowds, just the occasional pedestrian with an umbrella. He takes his corners much neater than his target and he is closing in; he’s used to the chase- then he stumbles at the thought. This isn’t the Hunt, he just needs to catch him because…

James is flagging and he doesn’t have time to dwell on that as he runs into him with his whole body, winding him as he knocks them both to the floor. James opens his mouth to speak as he lies flat on his stomach, but no words come out, he just gasps trying to fill up his lungs with the air knocked out of him, and struggles to push himself up from the ground where Gerry has him pinned down.

Gerry eases up a little and pulls his shoulder around so he is pinned on his back instead. “What have you done?”

“Didn’t realise you were... so fast... not even out of breath...” he wheezes and looks over to one side, “people are looking… might want to… let me up…”

“I don’t give a shit, I want to know why you made Emily steal for you, and I want to know what you gave to Jon.” Gerry shoves him roughly back into the pavement.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?”

“Don’t push me, James, I swear to god-”

“Em would be pretty upset if you killed their brother when you should’ve... been looking out for me.”

“Don’t- You don’t get to bring them into this, not when you lost them their job and- and did w-whatever you did to Jon.”

“And yet you left... him behind?” Before Gerry can answer, he continues, “Listen, I was just trying to get you off my trail, I was gonna sell them... for a bit of extra cash.”

“... Do you have anything else with you?” Gerry asks quietly.

James’ eyes widen, “No- please you can’t take it, I need the money-”

“I’ll _give_ you money,” he says harshly, but clambers to his feet, dragging James up with him by his coat. Keeping tight hold, he asks, “How much for everything you’ve got?”

“Fifteen grand for the frame, the marbles I gave to your mate, and a weird book.”

“Ten. I’m not paying you for whatever you _gave_ to Jon. Is there anything else?”

“O-oh, alright, that’s all I’ve got with me, though. They’re at the place I’m staying.”

“Fine, come on then- and don’t even _think_ about running.” Gerry begins walking back up the road the way they came from.

“Wait, really?” he calls, jogging slightly to catch up.

Gerry doesn’t answer. His thoughts have flown back to Jon as guilt floods through him. He walks with long strides, careful to keep half an eye on James, and hopes desperately that Jon will still be where he left him. That he is where he left him, but also alive and safe. Gerry isn’t sure he’s that lucky though.

As they turn the final corner, he has to stop himself from crossing his fingers. He panics for a moment when he doesn’t see Jon, and when he looks down to see him on the damp ground, his stomach flips again until he registers that Jon isn’t unconscious, just sitting cross-legged on the pavement, the umbrella lying still open next to him, and his hair even more sodden than it had been, black with the rain that saturates it, and plastered to his forehead. He is holding a large translucent green marble up to his eye. Gerry falls to his knees in front of him, reaching out, his hands hovering between them.

“Jon?” His eyes shift focus slightly, but they have a far away look, even as he faces Gerry. “Jon, can-” he looks at James and puts his hand out, “Give me your fucking gloves.” James hands them over wordlessly and Gerry puts them on as he looks back down at Jon. “Hey, what have you got there?” he says gently, “Can I have it, please?”

“I wouldn’t look too closely at it if I were you. The gloves are a precaution, but it’s the looking that gets ‘em”

Gerry curls a gloved hand over the marble, staring directly into Jon’s eyes, which seem to look right through him, as he reaches to pick up the jar that rested in his lap. Jon releases the marble as though he hadn’t been holding it at all, and Gerry drops the marble back in, taking care not to look, but Jon’s eyes are still distant and unfocussed. The rain has started to ease off though, at least.

“Hey, Jon? Did Gertrude give you any cash?”

“Yes, it’s in my bag.” Jon speaks clearly and Gerry, not expecting a response, startles.

“O-okay, great, do you mind if I use it to buy the frame you were looking for?”

“By all means.”

Gerry rifles through the satchel that is still slung over Jon’s shoulder until he finds an envelope, which looks to contain about a thousand pounds. He sighs. “Alright, come on,” he says as he gets to his feet once again, his aching joints protesting. He couldn’t keep running like he had. Or tackling people to the ground, for that matter. Especially not after today. He isn’t a hunter, and he didn’t want to be one. Slipping towards something like that would be all too easy and he cannot let it happen. He puts his hand out to help Jon up. Jon doesn’t take it. “Jon, can you get up?”

“Of course I can,” he replies haughtily, pushing himself up off the floor.

“Right, tell me where you’re staying, and we can get you some dry clothes,” Gerry puts the jar into Jon’s bag, since he doesn’t have any pockets large enough to carry it himself, and picks up the umbrella, folding it in. Jon gives him the address, it’s only a few streets over, “Let’s go then. James?”

All three of them walk to Jon’s hotel, Gerry periodically checking that James hasn’t legged it and Jon hasn’t walked into traffic. Gerry can’t tell exactly what the marbles are doing yet, but he hopes the effects will wear off soon. He doesn’t want to think about the alternative.

It’s a bit of an ordeal to get Jon’s key and room number from him, but he breathes a sigh of relief that Jon seems able to at least get changed without assistance. He stands with James outside the room in stony silence and every time James looks as though he is about to say something, Gerry glares as harshly as he could until he closes his mouth. Jon finally comes out of his room wearing a pair of smart, but very creased trousers that look like they’d been slept in, a jacket and what looked like an old band t-shirt, and Gerry ushers them back out of the hotel and towards James’ hostel.

“Not gonna lie to you Gerard, I don’t love the fact you know where I’m staying.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you deal in dangerous artifacts.”

“Oh, so being stalked is my fault? ‘S that what you’re saying?”

“You’re not being stalked.”

“Really? Tell that to your _friend_.”

“We aren’t-”

“Friends? So you don’t know this man? Is- wait, why didn’t you know where he was staying? I thought you said he was with you?”

“You- I don’t want to be doing this, you get that, right? I don’t like having to hunt down this shit, it was supposed to be a favour to Emily, but this is Institute business, you’re lucky it’s only me you’ve got after you,” Gerry sighs. He looks down at Jon again, holding the strap of his bag loosely as the first alternative he had thought of to steering him by the arm. Besides holding his hand, which Jon would probably enjoy even less.

“Well, if that’s the case, should I be thanking you for tackling me to the ground?” James says, “...I could just ask him-”

“No!” Gerry exclaimes before he catches himself, “Just- leave him alone, he’s not important. And I’m not asking you to thank me, I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“God, are you really- not all of us can throw ten _thousand_ pounds around on a book and a couple of trinkets! I have a family to feed!” James stops abruptly. “We’re here,” he says coldly, gesturing to the building they’d stopped in front of, “I suppose you don’t trust me enough to let me go and get them myself?”

“You have a-” Gerry takes a deep breath. “These things hurt people, you must know that-”

“So does poverty.”

“... Was it worth Emily getting fired?”

James doesn’t reply, just shows them in. Gerry stands with Jon in the entry while they wait for James to get the artifacts, and feels guilty. _He has a family. He- It’s none of my business, I can’t stop him. If he wants to leave his family to do this, then they’re better off without him._

“I’m really sorry about this, Jon,” he whispers, not looking at him.

He doesn’t have time to say anything more, however, as James reappears with a polythene shopping bag that, Gerry checks, contains a thin yellow book and a small wooden picture frame. He pulls out a slightly soggy envelope from one of the pockets in his trousers, handing it over, and then the money Jon had brought with him, and looks at the flimsy bag which held two extremely dangerous objects, before tucking it into Jon’s satchel along with the marbles.

“There’s eleven thousand there,” Gerry says, his voice dispassionate but quiet, not wanting to be overheard by the person at the reception desk, “Don’t drag Emily into this. I don’t want to have to do this again.” And with that, he walks away, dragging Jon with him.

After a few minutes of walking in a random direction, he finally stops. Jon hasn’t said a word and Gerry can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry at him for abandoning him in favour of chasing the man who had hurt two of his friends- _Friends? If he could have called Jon a friend before today, Jon would probably never want to again after all this was over. If it could be over-_ , or if it’s because he is unable to. 

“Jon, would you just tell me what you’re feeling- I want to help you.”

He doesn’t expect an answer, but he gets one. “I’m scared. And my back hurts.”

Scared isn’t something he can help, he’d usually try gentle words or a soothing hand, but Jon doesn’t seem to have registered much of anything that has been going on, and he doesn’t want to touch him right now, not after promising he wouldn’t, but Jon is carrying a heavy bag, and there _is_ something he can do about that. He pulls the satchel over his head, and slings it over his own shoulder. Then something happens. Jon is gasping, choking, seemingly unable to suck air in. Is he having a panic attack? His eyes are wide with terror as Gerry’s hands dance between them as he tries to work out what to do. He repeats Jon’s name futilely, unable to get his attention, while Jon’s hands thud at his own chest and claw at his throat. Gerry watches helplessly and makes a decision. He catches Jon’s scrabbling hands as carefully as he can and draws them away from his neck. As he does so, Jon looks upwards, stretching his neck to reveal angry red scratches, but manages to take a long, clear breath. Gerry drops his hands as Jon catches his breath, still repeating his name.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” comes the reply, barely more than a hoarse whisper, but he doesn’t look down. Gerry runs his hands through his hair to collect his thoughts. He will never get used to having to watch as people are terrorised by these things; it’s almost worse than being stuck under the power of one himself.

“What happened?” he asks gently. If it was a panic attack, he doesn’t want to be overly loud, although he knows he can look threatening at times.

“I don’t know. But I’m alright now,” Jon replies, but he looks ashen and exhausted, and Gerry winces at the sight of the lines down his neck which are still bared.

“Will you look at me? I need to make sure you’re alright.”

Jon makes a jerky motion with his head, but doesn’t bring it down, and Gerry’s hands hover again. He watches as Jon seems to drag his gaze down to somewhere near his head with a pained expression.

“I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want, but we need to go somewhere safe, where we aren’t so out in the open,” he reassured him, but Jon stared just to the right of his head with a look of panic and then made direct eye contact for the first time, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please don’t make me go inside- I can’t- I’ll go anywhere else, but-”

“Jon- Hey, it’s alright, we can just walk, we don’t have to go inside,” he interrupts, desperate to put his mind at ease in any way he can, “but it’s getting late, and I for one am starving, so if you want I can pick you up something on the way?”

Jon looks away again and Gerry can see the tension fall off him. For a moment.

“What’s happening to me?” he asks, panicking again, “Gerry, what’s going on??” It doesn’t escape his notice that Jon seems unable to look down from the sky. Suddenly Jon reaches forward for just a moment before pulling them in again. Gerry runs his hands through his hair. _What am I doing? What can I do? I- I don’t know what to do-_

“I don’t know- I- I think it’s the Vast? Or maybe the Buried? And I don’t know if destroying the marbles would make it better or worse. Shit, I- god, this is such a mess!” Gerry takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down. Jon is panicking enough without his anxiety weighing down on top of that. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.”


End file.
